Definitely Not Heaven
by SweetKerosene
Summary: "Dying like this was actually a terrifying thing. It wasn't like having a gun held to your head. Here you feel yourself slipping away." Rated M for suicide or attempted suicide. It's up to you.
1. Chapter 1

**Rated M for... well pretty much suicide. You can interpret the end how ever you wish. It's possible I may do epilogues, but I'm not promising anything. I'm still working on Philadelphia. I'm putting a lot of effort into it because I don't want to disappoint. **

Disclaimer: Recognizable people and places are not mine.

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SK

She couldn't say for certain when she started feeling this way. She still loved her job. Sometimes she felt like it was the only thing keeping her going, sometimes she felt like it wasn't enough. She wanted to say definitively that it was during, or maybe right after, the Lauren Eames case that she started feeling this way but she couldn't because she knows that it has been far longer than six weeks, the Lauren Eames case only made her realize she was feeling it. It was a scary feeling, uncertainty. Micah would say 'At least you're feeling something!' but at this precise moment she longed for the days when she didn't feel anything. Or at least didn't know she was feeling something.

This, the uncertainty, the feelings, the overwhelming sense of everything she's done and will do in the end will be for nothing, is what brings her to holding her sharp, finely honed, paring knife to her left wrist. She has regrets. She made mistakes. She hadn't adjusted, she was still sad. Even more so now and the onslaught of feelings was one she couldn't handle. She'd never had to before, let alone so immensely, and so perfectly alone. She had said to Lauren that people assume that when you're alone you must be lonely. An astute distinction. At the time she applied it to herself, now looking around herself and seeing everyone but her so happy, and markedly neither alone nor lonely, she knew she was painfully both. She sucked in a breath and let it out shakily. She pressed down tightly and tried to see her wrist through the tears in her eyes. Finally she opted just to shut her eyes. She pulled the knife, the blade gliding smoothly across her wrist. She knew it would hurt, she had looked forward to it, she didn't expect it to hurt so much. Before she lost her nerve she quickly picked up the knife off the counter, already covered with blood, and shakily repeated the action on the other wrist.

She watched the blood pump out of her with a morbid fascination. Her body had pumped a rush of endorphins through her body, she could barely feel the gashes on her wrists anymore. Blood pounded loudly through her veins trying to get blood to all her organs while simultaneously try to repair the self inflicted wounds. She barely heard her phone ringing through the haze. She stumbled to the small glass table in the living room to where her phone was. She fell heavily to the ground as she answered the phone. Booth's voice carried smoothly through the phone and her tears started anew. Even to her it was a romantic way to die. She knows, logically, that suicide is a deplorable way to escape one's problems, but she also knows, emotionally, that no one will be overly digressed by her death. She thought of her regrets. They mainly surrounded him. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him goodbye. She wanted to tell him she was sorry. She wanted to tell him she loved him. But she couldn't get the words out. Her vision was blurring and blackening around the edges and her breathing was coming in short gasps now. All she could do was cry. She couldn't help but want him here with her now. She could hear Booth, she recognized his voice as panicked, but her brain wouldn't tell her what words he was actually saying.

He was panting now, no longer talking. He told her to open the door, the no nonsense tone almost made her want to smile. Maybe she would have, if she wasn't so weak. Dying like this was actually a terrifying thing. It wasn't like having a gun held to your head. Here you feel yourself slipping away. She fleetingly thought of Heaven and Hell and wondered to which she's be heading. She could feel her regrets. She could see it in front of her and she thought, maybe I'm already in Heaven. Deep brown, albeit panicky, eyes were over her. Looking down on her. How could this not be Heaven? Because in Heaven the face of the man you love isn't begging you to hang on with your blood on his face and hands. And in Heaven those warm, reassuring brown eyes you care about so deeply don't have tears in them because of you.

She was so weak now, the flow of blood from her wrists weakened and she was so damn cold only slightly warmed by his lap which she was now laying in. She didn't believe in absolutes but she wanted to believe she absolutely succeeded. She looked up into his eyes as a tear fell, landing on her cheek, mingling with her drying ones. "Booth" She said in a raspy whisper. Her mouth was sticky and dry but she had to tell him, she didn't need to. She wanted to. She tried to lift her hand but failed miserably "I love you." She whispered to him as he grabbed her hand. A sob broke free from him and her heart ached at the sight.

He bent to her kissing her fiercely. "I love you too. I'm so sorry, baby." He said kissing her again repeating himself over and over peppering kisses on her. And when she went even more lax in his arms he pulled back and looked into her eyes. "Please don't leave me." He implored "Don't leave me." He said as his sobs racked his body.

And as her world went completely black her body went limp… She didn't want to.

FIN

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I hope you enjoyed it. =) As always, reviews are appreciated.


	2. Epilogue:La Mort

He always thought he'd make it here before her. Always. He had hoped she'd be the one coming to visit him. Not everything happens the way you think, or hope, apparently. He looked down at the wonderingly simple headstone. The epitaph imprinted on it not do the woman resting there prematurely justice.

It had been almost 2 years. Every night he still woke up to the memory of the blood on the floor, the words she spoke, the tears that had been shed. His hand always falling automatically to the necklace around his neck with her two favorite rings on it, caressing them until his breathing returned to normal. Rarely did he fall back asleep after that. The dark circles under his eyes had turned seemingly permanent. His sessions with Sweets increased and the times ran longer.

He often wondered what would have happened had he gotten there sooner. If she'd still be here, if she'd be happy. He wondered what would have happened had he not said not to her that night. He wondered if Sweets, Cam, and Hodgins wouldn't have withdrawn into themselves a little. He wondered if Angela wouldn't have damn near quit her job because she could hardly handle being in The Jeffersonian anymore without her best friend a few steps away. He tried not to dwell but he missed her so damn much.

He smiled as he thought about how Brennan would have thought him silly for these irrational thoughts. She promised him she'd visit his grave, sometimes he wondered if she really would have. He visited her every weekend. His friends told him he needed to let her go but how can you let someone whom you loved so dearly, so intensely, go? He wanted to tell them if someone you loved like that died in your arms you wouldn't want to let them go either. And he hadn't. That night, he had known when the life left her. He couldn't let her go when the paramedics came. He held her, crying, begging her to come back to him. But she had left him. Alone. To deal with in the coldness of this world. Alone.

At first he had been angry but even in death he couldn't stay angry at her. Then he tried denial, but when he called her phone and instead of her voice telling him to leave a message he got a recording from the phone company telling him the number was no longer in service, his denial shattered, along with his phone.

Now he just tried to get through the day. Everyday was the same, a set routine he no longer paid attention to nor deviated from unless he had Parker. He looked up to the sky, as if he would see her there. It was December and yet he was here in a short sleeved shirt and the sunlight momentarily blinded him. God must be mocking him he thought bitterly. "Parker told me to tell you he loves you really misses you, Bones." Tears clouded his eyes and he shifted on his feet slightly, breathing in shakily. "So do I" He laid a hand on the stone, only slightly cool to the touch and then turned heading for his car.

He closed the door and took another deep breath, steeling himself, then letting it out on a sigh looking back to her headstone. His eyes misted over again making the his vision blurry. Blinking and letting the tears fall as a ray of sunlight beamed directly onto her stone. He smiled as he wondered what Bones would have to say about it as he drove away.

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**I wanted to put this epilogue first so if you read both of them, you'll get a happy ending.**


	3. Epilgoue: à vivre

They had told him had she cut her right wrist any deeper she wouldn't have made it. The thought was haunting. He remembered that night. He was heading over for the simple fact that he missed hanging out with her. For the last 6 years it was a rare occurrence for him to hang out with someone outside of the squint squad and she was his favorite person in general, how could he not miss her? He called her out of courtesy, to give her time in case she wasn't decent, or maybe to warn him she had company. When she picked up and he only heard shallow breathing his mind went back to the idea of her having company. He opened his mouth to try and play his call off but the fact that this far into the call she hadn't said anything was troubling. Panic set in and his body went rigid at the fact that she wasn't responding to his questions. He could still hear her breathing and a tiny moan and with that his lights came on sending the cars in front of him scattering. He was already close but he wasn't getting there nearly fast enough for his liking. When he got to her apartment building he called for an ambulance, thinking it was possibly premature, but this was Bones and Bones… let alone normal people… didn't sit breathing into a phone.

He ran as quickly as he could up to her apartment, foregoing the stairs. He banged on her door franticly, calling to her, hoping she'd answer the door. After about 24 seconds he relented and used his key, given to him precisely for moments like this. His breath left him when he got the door open, Seeing her lying in her living room, her blood trailed from the kitchen and pooled around her. He immediately ran to her lifting her into his arms. Emotions trumping logic in that moment, he knew in his mind he should be applying pressure to her wounds but his heart wouldn't let him leave her side. She was so pale, and so clammy, and so barely there. Tears welled in his eyes. How could this happen? She was always so strong. He lifted his hand to his face to try and stop the damn tears but that failure made itself known when one landed on her cheek. She looked at him then, actually looked at him, spoke his name, and then tried to lift her hand. He grabbed it reassuringly when it flopped lifelessly back down. Then she gave up her heart. To him. And he broke. And the he kissed her over and over telling her he loved her and begging her not to leave him. And then she went limp in his arms and the silent sobs that wracked his body only seconds before tore out of him.

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The doctors told him that as her emergency contact, and as she was not of sound mind, he would decide her next step. Either she would go to an institution or she would go home with someone trusted. He chose the latter of course. He'd ask her whose house she'd like to go to when the sedatives wore off and she woke up. She adamantly insisted he take her home. With him. She wouldn't tell him why. As she signed her discharge papers the doctor pulled him aside and told him "Only happy things. No sharp or breakable objects. She mustn't be alone." He knew Bones would hate it but for now he had no choice.

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It had taken her a few of weeks to crawl out of the hole she had dug herself and even longer to explain to her friends why she hadn't been at work. Angela had cried. Hard. Hodgins held her. Cam had just given her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, surprising Brennan, and telling her fiercely she was glad she was ok. Sweets had already known. He knew the night it had happened, so he was just somber. Brennan turned to Booth and asked him to take her home.

They all begged her to talk to someone. If not them then someone she didn't know, just talk. They all begged her. Except for Booth. He sat with her, watched t.v. with her, cooked for her, but he never asked her to talk. To him or anyone. She was glad for it. He understood. And he knew her, if she wanted to talk, he'd know it.

Sitting on the couch one night, watching some program neither was truly paying attention to, she sneaked glances at him, and fidgeted until he finally asked her what was wrong.

"Do you think I'd be a bad mother?" She asked. She wasn't looking at him, she wasn't really looking at anything. He certainly wasn't expecting that question. He stared at her a minute trying to figure out the reason behind the question.

"Bones…" he saw the tears in her eyes and he couldn't stand it and whether or not the question made sense to him, it was pertinent to her. "You know I think you be a great mother."

"Still?" She looked at him then. That was it. She wanted to know if he still thought of her the same. Thought she was a good person.

"You're still a great everything." He still thought the sun shined out of her ass. Plain and simple. "Right now. Maybe not." She still appreciated honesty. And the honesty of it made her eyes mist over. She had wanted no regrets and here she was living one, seemingly without and escape. "You know when there's a field fire and then after it's out everything grows back?" He got only a blank stare he decided to continue. "Your fire has gone out, now all you have to do it wait a while until everything you were comes back, even better than before."

"Do you forgive me, Booth?" He wanted to tell her there was nothing to forgive. Instead he just looked her in the eye and said resolutely.

"Yes." The next day she went to Sweets. It took a long time and even more work on her part but she got her clearance back, she got her job back, she got her friends back. She wasn't one hundred percent but she was trying her damndest to get there.

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I t had been a long day, longer than he cared for. He always found himself excited at the end of them. This night though, when he came in the excitement flowed slowly out of his body. The t.v. was off, as were all of the lights, there were no sounds other than his footsteps. He had been expecting her to be here. She had been taking on more work lately, he reminded himself. She won't always be here anymore. He went to his room, turning on the t.v. and sitting against the headboard. The day really had been long.

He faintly heard her footsteps falling around the room and he slowly awoke. She was walking lightly as not to disturb him and he kept his eyes shut, his brow furrowing at the slight sniffling sounds coming from her and he wondered briefly after her health. She slipped into bed and turned her back to him. She only did that when she was upset with him. But he couldn't remember doing anything. He put his had on her arm. She held firm when he tried to turn her.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He asked, confused.

"Nothing, Booth. Go back to sleep." She knew he wasn't going to let it go that easily

" Bones, baby. Talk to me." He demanded. She sighed and turned on her back to look at the ceiling.

"As you know the bodies from modular bone storage are from wars and murder victims from time periods long before now." He didn't catch her point. "This body had… nicks on the bones of both wrists." She said taking in a deep breath. "Self inflicted." He looked down at her, she looked troubled. He hadn't seen that look on her face for almost a year and a half. "That could have been me, Booth." She said. He saw the tears in her eyes even in the murky darkness in the room. He picked up the hand closest to him and traced the silvery scar on her wrist and then brought it to his mouth kissing it softly.

"That's true, Bones, but it wasn't. That was… almost 2 years ago. You're not perfect. Well to me, you are, but sometimes we crack under the pressure, you know I have, and you also know I've been where you are now. You remember when I told you you just had to wait for everything to grow back better than before? I think the waiting is over. You're even more beautiful now." He said placing his hand on her stomach and kissing her. "Now I don't think Joelle likes mommy upset." He said feeling their daughter move slightly. "Does she?" He asked her protruding stomach.

"Mommy is happy." Brennan said kissing Booth again.

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**I hope you enjoyed it. I quite enjoyed writing it. =) **


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